Dorcas stood staring at the canvas before her. Bright colours danced together in a hypnotizing blend of lights and shade, each colour so different from the other, yet complementing themselves in a way that left you speechless. 

Slowly, carefully, Dorcas raised her hand to trace the delicate lines of the abstract painting. It was unlike anything she had ever created. Her fingers gingerly followed the brush strokes.

Red. Green. Maroon. A swirl of blue. A dab of orange…

There were no words to describe it.

For eight years, Dorcas Kuti had been painting. She had always been excellent, it was no secret. Since she began at the age of nine, Dorcas had been nothing but excellent, a child prodigy. Some people even called her the next da Vinci, save for the tiny detail that she was neither a man nor Italian. 

Dorcas had never painted anything that didn't immediately demand for attention.

So what was this? What was this painting?

The problem wasn't that it wasn't beautiful or it wasn't captivating.

No.

The problem was that it wasn't hers. 

Being as talented as she was, Dorcas sometimes taught art courses in Federal Universities despite only being in secondary school. It was in this particular class that she stumbled upon her student's work.

When she entered the room, the piece immediately caught her attention, drawing her to it like a moth to a flame. 

She was enraptured. She barely even registered the other sketches and paintings around her.

Dorcas made it a habit to come to class a whole thirty minutes earlier than her students. It allowed her to think and gather herself before the others came in.

Of course, it also meant that she was completely alone with this magnificent piece of art - the one that threatened her position as the Nigerian da Vinci. 

A dark thought crept into her head, unbidden but very wanted. There were a dozen other artworks here. Who would notice if one went missing? 

Dorcas passed the thought around in her mind, turning it over and looking for any loopholes that might point back to her.

There were none. 

She smiled to herself as her thin fingers wrapped themselves around the edges of the canvas, lifting it up from the easel.

As a last minute thought, she allowed her eyes to travel down to the corner of the painting where the artist's initials were written in beautiful flourish. 

“Nobody competes with me, Anu.” She spat.

Walking over to where dozens of paint cans lay open, Dorcas placed the painting on a nearby stool and helped herself to a brush. She was about to dip it into a can of purple paint but then paused. After a few seconds, she put down the brush and picked up the can in both hands.

Gently, so she didn't ruin her clothes…or leave any evidence, Dorcas poured a generous amount of the purple liquid across the canvas. When she was satisfied, she picked up the frame which was now just a boring purple background, wrapped it in a giant black trash bag and set it by the discarded materials. 

Every art classroom had one - a pile of unwanted goods in the corner of the room that no one ever paid attention to. It was the perfect spot. She would leave it there for now and after this class was over, Dorcas would make sure she disposed of it properly.

Checking herself to make sure there were no curious purple stains on her jean overalls, she sat at the teacher's desk and waited patiently for her students to arrive.